


gelido corde fugere

by thegreatmoon



Series: xmas gifts 2k19 [5]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst, Depression, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:26:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22198549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatmoon/pseuds/thegreatmoon
Summary: “floating through that half frozen lake with no clear objective, a new doom was cursed over taeil: there was no difference between him and an iceberg at that moment in time”;taeil wonders what has turned him into a lonely iceberg in jung jaehyun’s cold waters
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Moon Taeil
Series: xmas gifts 2k19 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1555732
Comments: 8
Kudos: 46





	gelido corde fugere

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fightsekai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fightsekai/gifts).



> this is my first fic for my best friend ): it took a while but she personally requested this prompt and i knew it would be hard to fulfill on time ! happy late xmas gift, anne. i love you so much, you’re my everyday joy~ i do not think i have to say much to you here because you already know everything i have to say, but i think it’s a very rare occurrence when people so alike each other meet and i cherish every moment with you.
> 
> this is a lil pretentious, very sorry for that. there is a [playlist on spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/21eklzjpmpl6wr2xyoga7jubq/playlist/1B4xmHurARxs9D95sL5wU9?si=iugKaXRfRsef__aRLudaVg) but if u dont like playlists/dont have spotify, i think bank’s the altar album matches it v well~
> 
> thank you elle for betaing this ^_^
> 
> xx  
> sol

Floating with no course in the middle of that winter lake, Taeil felt like an iceberg. The comparison came to him in a flash, as they come to most artists and discoverers. In a blink Shackleton decided to explore the Antartic, yet the world would never be the same after the thought came to him.

Taeil was no discoverer like Shackleton. As a child, he had obvious dreams, like most did of being a singer or president. His youth fantasy was of being an astronaut and exploring new places in space, like Buzz Aldrin. Adolescence came and with it much internal conflict. The world was too complicated to try expanding its domains to other galaxies. Better focus on each experience and emotion step by step and try expanding the smallest of feelings to the size of solar systems. With that in mind he became an artist.

Soon, he was known for his so-called peculiar metaphors. Taeil liked when people said that about his art. Not because he saw any truth to it, but the sentence had a sarcastic flavor to his mouth. Didn’t take long for the painter to make a collection called _metaphors for sale_ , with a self explained objective that was achieved after the most expensive set of mere a hundred thousand dollars was sold. It also delighted him to find the smallest of inspirations and turn them into grandiose pieces, each more subtle than the other. What was petit became huge under his hands.

There was one aspect of himself as an artist that got under Taeil’s skin. If he could get rid of that awful aspect about himself in turn of losing any ounce of artist soul inside of him, he would do it. Once an idea formed in Taeil’s mind, it did not vanish into air. The painter didn’t even have to take notes, the mere whisper of a thought that struck him as future art would never let go of him until turned into reality. How could something as formless as a dream or hypothesis be of such nuisance to his mind was out of his grasp. Yet, when the spark of idea lit in the darkness of his mind, he knew he was doomed for sleepless nights and that hardworking days were to come in which he would only breath paint, his hand would solely meet the touch of a brush and his eyes would adjust to the shapes of what he was trying to form.

Floating through that half frozen lake with no clear objective, a new doom was cursed over him: there was no difference between him and an iceberg at that moment in time.

Both iceberg and Taeil wandered through cold waters without will. The two had a cold core. And, most of all, they faced the same destiny of crumbling down into themselves.

He wondered what had made him turn into that erratic glacial block. Icebergs had no home, they did once. They used to be whole, were part of a bigger family, and stayed ashore, safe, stable. Something happened and they cracked completely from their origin and turned into wandering hazards for sailors who dared to adventure themselves in those cold waters, such as Shackleton did a hundred years before.

Perhaps people had been misunderstanding icebergs that whole time. They were as much a victim of the cold waters as those sailors. Those waters were what separated the blocks of ice from home and guided them to tortuous paths and perhaps the ones to blame whenever such blocks self destroyed, falling over the ocean to be melted away.

Taeil wished he had never known as cold a liquid as the one that pumped through Jung Jaehyun’s heart. Unlike most freezing waters, he hadn’t noticed its chill temperature when first blindly entering it. There was no thermoelectric shock when their hands first touched, and his lips hadn’t gone numb when they tasted Jaehyun’s. He had not known what kind of deal he was striking when exploring that new path. Yet, now that all Taeil knew was Jaehyun, he felt as a sleeping sailor who found himself drowning in the middle of the night. He wouldn’t die, no matter how much he wanted it. His future was gloomier, fated to either crumble down on his own sorrow or melt away into obliviousness.

Taeil played with the literal icy water under his hands, not able to flicker away the thoughts that came splashing inside his mind. The painter remembered the first time he had met Jaehyun. He pondered on what would be considered the first crack that would make him a lonely block of ice. It could have been when Jaehyun first entered the gallery, stepping with confidence into the room while wearing his dark blue suit, asking politely for the artist of the exposition taking place. Taeil, who was waiting for someone to talk to him that evening, raised his head from the ground and their eyes met, as a thousand more inspirations came to the artist the same instant. Perhaps, it was when, later that evening, Jaehyun managed to get his number without much effort, and Taeil was more than flustered a man such as that could be interested in him, a mere aspiring artist. Maybe it was before Jaehyun ever happened. Icebergs must be doomed to live a lonely life from the start. Something in Taeil’s blood must have had his destiny written already.

Either way, Taeil surely must have known something was odd when Jaehyun wouldn’t even waste his energy pretending to listen to his latest sell or when he wouldn’t have a faint grip over Taeil’s hand when his husband tried desperately holding it, keeping him as a doll. It still wasn’t enough for Taeil to be suspicious, some people are more distant than others. He couldn’t have known Jaehyun’s syndrome was far from social coldness, but much more to do with a high interest in himself.

Cracking without making a sound or even noticing what he was to become, Taeil still chose to him. It wasn’t Jaehyun’s fault after all. Not all glaciers breaks into icebergs, only the weaker ones. He was the weakest link of them all.

Back to the reality of drifting off in his winter lake before his house in the presence of no other living being besides himself, Taeil felt he better get out of the chilling waters. His legs were long numb, as well as his fingers, and his lips, already naturally dry, were as hard as rock due to the cold wind.

The painter held his breath and sunk. Water surrounded him entirely, inflicting pain where the cold wind previously hurt. When he emerged, panting for air and quickly swimming shore, he already knew what his new exposition would be about. The idea wouldn’t leave his head until its completion. How fulfilling it was to be an artist and have the power of creation from his pain and detachment in the blink of an eye.

❅❆❅

When Taeil started carefully brushing the white canvas, Jaehyun didn’t raise his head from his newspaper. Even as the painter worked for days and slept on the couch instead of their bed, the number of words directed at him did not increase from the usual few. Each sentence unsaid was a degree dropping lower for him, but he tried to think of his stolen joy as inspiration for better art. Any obvious action of carelessness that Taeil would take from the frozen hearted man was another layer added to his canvas. He only wished he had enough paint for it.

As Taeil sat next to Jaehyun at breakfast, he analyzed his husband’s facial proportions carefully. When they met, he had whispered, in an attempt of being sexy and mystery that now sounded rather cheesy to him, that Jaehyun’s jaw was carved by Michelangelo himself. Maybe he wasn’t wrong, but now Taeil saw it wasn’t made of marble, but of a material much more sensitive to the heat.

His husband chewed on his bread peacefully, looking at nowhere specific and not saying a word. Routinely, he inquired about his partner’s next project. Taeil shrugged. Many times had he answered that and many were the ways Jaehyun found to show his lack of care for the man in front of him. Sometimes, as Taeil started talking, he would look at the time and, without a warning, leave his partner speaking as he left for work without a proper goodbye. Other times, he would check on his phone and not even take the effort of humming along to show he is listening, as Taeil asked if he was still paying attention. Then there were the times he asked the question after he had just inquired about it the day before, which showed Taeil how little attention was paid to his words. The painter especially liked when his husband would answer something completely different from what he had said, for the sad irony of the interaction never failed to make him chuckle bitterly.

“What are you working on?” Jaehyun had asked in one of these occasions, after taking a sip from his coffee and chewing his bread.

Taeil sat in silence, observing the trees around the house with glassy eyes. He couldn’t eat in his husband’s presence. Not that the other had taken notice.

“I’ve told you before. I’m doing a concept piece about icebergs,” he replied, dryly.

Complete silence. Only the chewing could be heard. Taeil stared at the beautiful forest from the glass walls of his house.

Chew. Breathe in. Breathe out. Chew. Breathe in.

“I hate when my coffee gets cold. God, if there is a thing I cannot drink it is cold coffee.”

Jaehyun stood up and poured the coffee down the sink. Taeil chuckled, another small piece of ice cracking from his surface and dropping to the ocean.

He used to try replying to Jaehyun and feigning real interest towards his husband. Taeil would always ask _how was work_ when he returned home, try to create a conversation and show what he had worked on for the day. Jaehyun would answer shortly, not paying much attention to what Taeil had painted, and most importantly, never asking about his day back.

Slowly, Taeil would feel the air being taken out of his lungs. He wondered if he would turn into the bluest of glaciers, the ones that had the lowest percentage of oxygen possible, pressed out by the amount of snow above them or, in his case, by Jaehyun’s constant lack of care. That thought scared him. He wished that _peculiar metaphor_ could stop haunting his mind with its scope.

Their house was overly white. Taeil hated every piece of it. Too minimalistic, post modern architecture didn’t fit a home, and the lack of warm colors contributed to the temperature of the environment. He felt like a doll trapped inside a doll house, only for his owner’s enjoyment. Dolls did not speak. Dolls looked pretty and smiled.

If he could replace his soul with any other person’s and merely left his shell at that haunted house, Jaehyun wouldn’t notice, as long as they kept still and smiled when he asked them to. Even if no one replaced his spirit inside that shallow shell of his and only his body remained, a proper breathing doll who knew how to use his lips, would any change occur to Jaehyun? Those questions cracked Taeil from inside out and he could feel himself dropping small ice cubes wherever he walked. His art was cursed, having lost all of its vitality and inspiration throughout the years, his passion for life was destroyed, as he had nothing worth living for.

All he had was the core of his problems, his cold water, his Jaehyun.

Swallowing his own saliva as those thoughts went through his mind, Taeil added another stroke of paint. He wanted to make the water around that iceberg look the most freezing possible.

❅❆❅

Not wasting his energy by paying attention, Jaehyun’s voice echoed through Taeil’s ears. His husband was talking passionately about his bucolic take on life. For some reason, when first meeting Jaehyun, Taeil was taken by his _fugere urbem_ ideas, melting to the sound of his velvety like voice whispering on how urban life corrupted the wild man. Endless were the times the painter begged his then boyfriend to recite neoclassical poems, hearing him talk of the fields and country life burned a desire inside Taeil’s stomach that he couldn’t quite explain.

 _Carpe diem_ was their motto for simple philosophical reasons and the painter had the memory of going down Jaehyun’s body between moans and whines as he repeated that sentence to himself. Jaehyun was his own poet prince, someone to be adored and adorned with flowers and crowns.

His sweet words became sour. Taeil couldn’t stand the idea of country life anymore, having it deeply connected to his husband. Anytime Jaehyun would even start talking about his _fugere urbem_ ideals, the painter chose to turn his brain off. It had started slowly, perhaps when Taeil first counted the many times Jaehyun interrupted him when trying to make an input of his opinion, or due to Jaehyun never asking his thoughts back. Taeil couldn’t understand. It must’ve been too hard of a task for his husband to understand the world didn’t turn around himself and what he spoke only.

When it occurred to Jaehyun to ask Taeil about his opinion, (as the conversations died more often now that his husband didn’t put an effort on massaging his ego) he did so only out of politeness, never hearing what the painter really thought and quickly replied to him with his favorite subject: himself. Taeil was now sure that anyone could inhabit his body and it would be the same to Jaehyun. Perhaps he would even like this arrangement better because inhuman beings didn’t ask for their partners to show any interest in them. It would even be easier if Taeil could leave his body in spirit.

Ideas came to the painter, as did questions, and very rarely did he put one down without getting his answer. If Taeil ever found himself thinking about the unanswered questions of the universe, he brushed them off immediately. The answer to “why do we exist” would in no way shape his way of living and it was better to ignore it without wasting any time. However, the ones in his reach were far too loud and annoying for Taeil to ignore them, as if they were as useless as “what is there in the afterlife?” Again, he was doomed by his overthinking, overstubborn, overquestioning brain.

That afternoon on the porch, staring at the forest that surrounded him and his husband, while the latter ranted on and on about the country life, Taeil wanted one of his questions to be answered.

“What do you like about me?” he inquired loudly. If speaking to the trees was possible, a passerby would have thought he was talking to them, not his husband, who was shocked by the sudden interruption. The painter insisted, “You heard me, Jaehyun. What about me attracts you?”

His husband arched his eyebrow. Taeil knew he was annoyed but couldn’t find it in him to feel bad about it any more.

“You’re gorgeous,” Jaehyun had a faint smile on his lips that could pass for light sarcasm or sweet honesty. Taeil couldn’t be sure, but he found his husband's eyes and stared into them with no fear.

“Beauty dies.”

There was nothing alive in him to perish any longer, much less his beauty. His constant frowns, lowered eyes and his perfectly amicable smile took any life away from him. Nothing was prettier than joy after all.

Jaehyun shrugged, not trying to retort Taeil’s argument, “I like your art.”

Yet it had been years since he stepped inside one of Taeil’s expositions. Frequently the painter was asked about his gorgeous husband, with a jaw worthy of the best sculptors, and again Taeil would frown, lower his eyes and show them a perfectly amicable smile explaining how his husband was busy, locked in those huge skyscrapers, deciding god-knows-what about devil-knows-who.

“What about my personality?”

“You’re smart, kind, sexy… ” Jaehyun knew he was being tested. He was too smart not to notice Taeil’s eyes on him and how his inquiries wouldn’t stop. Knowing there would be a surprise exam didn’t always lead to the student acing the test. Most of the times, the answer given was logical but not the needed one.

Each compliment Jaehyun listed had as much effect on Taeil as a ship sinking in the Arctic at that moment. At least that event would have been unique, while the same couldn’t be said about the words spoken by his husband.

There was one last test, one last chance that could save the student from failing the class. It was a review test, easy question, a blast from the past that would get anyone with an elaborate answer a good grade.

“When did you notice you were in love with me?” He watched his husband attentively. Jaehyun smiled confidently, his lips curling more to the right side and exposing his dimples.

“When I first saw you,” he replied, like an overconfident student who gave the teacher a failing exam.

Taeil turned around, to leave the porch and forest behind. “Wrong answer,” he whispered before entering his overly white house.

❅❆❅

Dressed in an icy blue buttoned up shirt, Taeil took a look in the mirror. He was known for often matching his hair color and style to the opening exposition, enjoying being part of the metaphor, but that night he could do nothing more than that shirt. His hair would stay in the same bleached undercut and only a blue moonstone would be worn under the shirt. There was no need for him to blend in more with his paintings that he was already inside.

He sat down next to the door and waited. There was not much more he could do. Boredom hardly ever affected him anymore after so many years of being married to someone only interested in his bucolic poems and dream fields.

The glass door swung open and Jaehyun came inside the house, wearing a grey blazer and blue tie. He was perfect, wouldn’t even have to change clothes.

“Will you come with me?” The painter asked, hopeful.

Jaehyun sighed, putting his briefcase on the floor, “I have work, Taeil…”

There had been few occasions he begged Jaehyun to do something for him. It wouldn’t have any effect unless his husband wanted to do it himself. Finally an exception to the rule came.

“This will be the last exposition of mine you’ll ever have to go. I promise,” Taeil said, emphatically.

Jaehyun sighed in annoyance and agreed.

❅❆❅

The air conditioner in art galleries always made Taeil tremble with cold and so he was wearing a big coat, even inside. He had specifically asked for it to be cold. One of his many quirks as an artist was to think of the environment as an extension to art itself. In past collections he had gone as far as even giving up the gallery structure entirely and exposing his work on the street, as other fellows in the industry had. These paintings, however, were far too personal to be shown to mere passersby and be a joint experience. They were to be observed in a lonely atmosphere, the most lonesome possible, to allow the person to digest the picture in the frame and the written work beside it, making connections with their own feelings.

Taeil dragged Jaehyun inside his exposition, being completely empty as it hadn’t opened yet. His husband’s grasp was almost as cold as the room and he didn’t bother holding Taeil’s hand back. In the middle of the gallery, the painter let him go so he could decide to wander next. Jaehyun didn’t move an inch further towards any piece of art however, looking at them all from where he was and nodding along.

“Do you like it?” Taeil inquired after concluding Jaehyun would not walk around on his own.

“Pretty…” he murmured, eyes going around the different paintings of icebergs in the room. The glacial blocks diverged in size, color and cut, but were all recognized as ocean wanderers. Some were purplish, other greenish, but most of them were different shades of blue and white. It reminded Taeil of his home.

They were all divided by a gold line that differentiated the emerged and submerged part. After all, the painter knew how much of an iceberg the eye couldn’t see and tried keeping that realistic on his art, dividing his canvas to 30% to the emerged ice and 70% underwater. The gold line was representing a magical division between conscious and subconscious. Taeil was very impressed he had thought of that, for the gold brought the darker shades a good contrast.

“Aren’t you going to look around? We have the place for ourselves,” he asked hopefully. Jaehyun nodded and his feet lead him in front of a bluish painting.

It showed what appeared to be two different ice blocks overwater, but it would only take a quick look to underwater to see they were connected by thick ice deep down. The more connected the bluest they were and therefore, the less oxygen existed inside of it.

“It’s nice…” Jaehyun murmured, after some seconds went by.

Taeil frowned. “Nice? Did you see the name of the painting?”

Jaehyun leaned in to the white box next to the piece of art where the name, date of painting, and artist was found. “ _Separation_ ,” he read, slightly confused.

“I felt that when you destroyed that bracelet I gave you,” Taeil murmured. The memory was engraved in his blood by then and it was easy reconnecting to the feeling.

The bracelet had been done by Taeil himself, by his crafty hands, and matched Jaehyun’s greenish aura for the country life. It was a gift for their one year of marriage and his husband had seemed excited by it, though rarely ever did he wear it if Taeil didn’t remind him to put it on first. One fateful day, the bracelet fell off Jaehyun’s wrist on the porch to the ground. Being handmade, it couldn’t handle the fall and was broken into thousands of pieces, never to be whole again. Taeil cried, making Jaehyun lose his temper, as he took his husband’s tears as pointing the guilt towards him. They had a fight, which made Taeil sadder than before, and Jaehyun didn’t bother to apologize, going to bed without a goodnight. The other followed him, but couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t even make himself change positions from his curled up state on his side of the bed. The next morning, Jaehyun announced everything was fine and that he would buy Taeil a nice new bracelet, even if that made no sense whatsoever because the bracelet was Jaehyun’s and something bought couldn’t replace anything made. That was the first time Taeil felt himself detached from his husband, not recognizing the man before him. Yet, he couldn’t think of leaving the house. He was more tied to the man than he had thought.

“Let’s go to another one, shall we?” Taeil asked and they moved to the front of another piece.

“ _Suffocation_ ,” Jaehyun read its title.

The canvas showed, differently from the last, a whole iceberg, with no scratches on it whatsoever. Its underwater section was of a beautiful dark blue, yet the emerged side couldn’t be seen due to an immense amount of fog.

His husband said nothing, but Taeil chimed in nonetheless.

“The last time you took me shopping. Or any time before that,” he said, observing Jaehyun’s expressions attentively. The businessman remained quiet and they walked along to the next piece.

A small wall of ice was seen over the water in this canvas. Yet, its depth was endless, occupying any space where water would be seen.

“This one is easy…” the painter said with a bitter smile, “ _Silence_.”

He observed his husband, who nodded. Even confronted with their lack of conversations he wouldn’t speak. He wouldn’t ask where Taeil’s inspiration came from. He wouldn’t ask what technique he used to paint. Jaehyun agreed and went on, letting silence reign between them.

“Finally, _Depression_ ,” Taeil announced with a sly smile.

The darkest of the paintings seen before, the waters surrounding the iceberg were green, like the green fields of Jaehyun’s dreams. It was the only painting that was completely detached from reality, an iceberg that came from Taeil’s own imagination: the overwater part of it was flying above the underwater, with only a few links connecting them together. Depression was, after all, the weakening of affection towards ourselves to the point the person on the surface wouldn’t want to be the one inside anymore.

There was no need for explaining that painting either. Taeil knew Jaehyun would remember the state the painter was a few months before. All he could do was float in the freezing lake in front of their house. There was nothing in him to create, to leave his haunted realms, to say a word more than necessary. Slowly, Taeil’s core froze, and Jaehyun could only watch.

“Do you _see_ , Jae?” Taeil asked, bright eyes turned to his husband.

“See what?” His beautifully carved face had a frown.

“What I’ve painted for you.”

“‘S nice,” Jaehyun answered vaguely, but Taeil kept staring him for more answers. “Artistic. Pretty.”

The painter chuckled: “Like me, right? I’m pretty.”

“You’re the prettiest of them all,” Jaehyun replied with a relaxed smile. Finally an answer he could give easily.

“Gonna buy me diamonds later,” Taeil hummed happily as he took a step closer to Jaehyun.

“Anything you want,” his husband whispered, placing a hand on his hips and bringing him closer.

Taeil played with the hem of his shirt, smiling playfully. “I want a divorce,” he announced, dropping the act and stepping away from Jaehyun’s grasp. “I can’t let you freeze me to death. I don’t want to see myself in these paintings anymore. I want to have oxygen in my lungs, not frost.”

It had taken a while for Taeil to be sure he wanted to speak those words to Jaehyun. Yet if there was one thing he knew about himself was that when an idea sparked inside him, little could be done until he had accomplished it. The minute he noticed there was no other answer for him other than divorcing Jaehyun, his future was sealed. He took a sip of his tea and returned to his canvas, knowing that very soon he would be out of that damned ghost house and away from his ghost husband.

Jaehyun stood in silent shock. It was clear he didn’t believe any word Taeil said. He probably didn’t even listen to him to understand them.

 _Cold hearted bitch_ , he could hear Jaehyun muttering under his breath one day in the future when talking about the divorce with his lawyer. Perhaps Taeil was a cold hearted bitch, one that didn’t even give Jaehyun the chance to convince him to stay and left his husband the day his grand new exposition with more _peculiar metaphors_ was opening and causing buzz. Maybe he was the one with cold liquid pumping through his veins and Jaehyun had been the victim all along, not being able to interact with such a quiet doll. Either way, Taeil didn’t mind anymore, he was leaving.

Glaciers could crack, core could melt, his iceberg could crumble in itself, Taeil would continue walking through that door, because he did not want to see himself in those paintings anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> the paintings are based on an exposition i saw by martha werneck two years ago. the ones specified in the one shot can be found in [this thread on twt](https://twitter.com/thegreatmoon94/status/1220151304963723264?s=21)
> 
> i write taeil fics and hyuckil text aus
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/thegreatmoon94)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/thegreatmoon94)  
> [carrd](https://gardenofwords.carrd.co/)
> 
> xx  
> sol


End file.
